


Whispers On The Wind

by ahlewis32



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Major character death - Freeform, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:05:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahlewis32/pseuds/ahlewis32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and his fellow Warden, Alia, are snowbound in a farmhouse and find each other. Years later, he reflects on that time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers On The Wind

The air had dropped below freezing two hours before, making walking in heavy armor even more difficult and colder. Both Wardens carried heavy packs, as well as a large bag thrown over their shoulders, full of supplies and food for themselves and their companions, who were waiting for them back at the campsite on route to Orzammar. The cold and wind were becoming too much and they had at least three hours of travel left.  
Alia looked up at the sun as it faded behind the mountains. Night fell much sooner this time of year and today it would be even sooner than average. Her shoulders ached with cold and exertion, the perspiration beginning to freeze under her mail shirt. As a large gust of wind hit her, she was knocked down, slipping off the path that wound through the pass and sliding down the hill into the swollen stream below, where she struggled to right herself and get a footing.  
“Alia!” yelled Alistair as he dropped his pack and sack and slid down the hill behind her, careful to stop before he hit the water below. “Stop thrashing and hold still!” he commanded. Alistair grabbed a long branch that had fallen near the edge of the stream and held it out to her, “Grab on!” She managed to grab onto the branch and was hauled up the bank by her fellow Warden, who took hold of her belt and pulled her up on the bank beside him, sputtering and coughing.  
Alistair pulled the heavy pack off her back and retrieved the sack of goods that had somehow not ended up floating downstream and set them down next to him. “Maker’s breath girl! Please tell me you’re wearing all your woolens today,” he chided softly as she pulled off her mail shirt, greaves and gloves, wrapping her in his own heavy woolen cloak.  
Her chattering teeth made it impossible to talk so Alia nodded her head in answer as he put his arms around her and began to rub her back, arms and legs to keep the circulation going. “I’ve got to get you out of this before you freeze. That storm is coming fast and it could last for days.” Alistair pulled the shaking girl to her feet led her up the hill to his discarded pack, then slid back down the hill to retrieve their other packs and Alia’s armor.  
“W…w…where?” Alia sputtered between chatters.  
“I saw a farmstead over that way earlier. Perhaps they will put us up. I have some money still,” he answered, shouldering both packs and bags. Alia was forced to carry her staff and weapons but staggered on behind him, her teeth still chattering from her swim.  
Once the farm was in sight, Alistair dropped the packs and bags, “Stay here and let me check it out first.” He drew his sword and approached the house, circling it to see who might be there. When he signaled her, Alia came forward, her staff at the ready, trying to keep her teeth quiet as she covered him. Once inside, they found no one had been there for some time. “Abandoned for a while now. Funny, they left everything like they planned on returning. I wonder what happened.”  
“P…p…perhaps d…d…darkspawn,” Alia replied as she tried to move and keep warm.  
Alistair came to her and started rubbing her arms again, trying to warm her. “Crap, I’ve got to get you warm and quick. I’ll start a fire, there’s wood outside. Keep moving while I’m gone.” He ran outside and returned with the bags and packs, throwing them on the floor before going back out for wood. Alia busied herself with walking through the small house, discovering a bedroom with a made up bed and an armoire full of clothing. The pantry was fully stocked with hams hanging from the ceiling and barrels of flour, sugar, salt and pickled and preserved vegetables and meats. Alistair called for her, “Alia?”  
“H…h…here,” she said, coming out of the pantry.  
“Come here,” he said as he piled wood on top of the kindling in the fireplace. Can you start this or do I need to do it the hard way?” he asked worriedly.  
Alia’s hand trembled as she called on her power, “You…you’ll have to a…aim it for m…me.” Alistair nodded and took her wrist, pointing her hand at the kindling at the center of the fire. Alia concentrated and a small stream of fire shot out of her hand, hitting the logs and igniting the kindling enough to get it started. She smiled as he laughed and started tending the fire until it blazed up.  
“Never thought I’d ever have to do that,” he said, still laughing, as he reached over and pulled her pack over to him. He rummaged through it and dumped everything out. “I’m afraid it’s all wet and you have to get out of those wet things now.” He stood, walked into the bedroom and rummaged through the armoire, pulling out a woolen dress, chemise, stockings and slippers as well as a shawl. A short hunt through a bureau produced a linen towel. When he returned he sat down next to her and pulled off her wet boots and socks. When he reached for her shirt, she shrank back a little. “All right, if you think you can do it,” he said, and went into the pantry, leaving her to dress by herself.  
Alia’s hands shook with cold so badly that she couldn’t untie the laces on her tunic or breeches, “A…A…Alistair? H…help?” The former Templar came out of the pantry, half eaten apple in hand, sat down and began to peel her wet tunic off.  
In the months that they had known each other, they had formed a unique relationship. They were close, often to the point of knowing what the other was thinking or feeling but there was no sign of the traditional romantic gestures that one would expect to accompany such a relationship. They ate together, worked together, fought together and even slept together but it stopped there.  
It was the topic of great speculation amongst their companions around the fire in the evenings. Wynne called them “empathic,” Zevran said they were “spooky,” Morrigan preferred “annoying,” and Leliana said it was “love.” None of them told the Wardens though, so to them, it was just as it should be; until that moment in the small farmhouse, stuck in the snow.  
Alistair’s hands began to shake as he pulled the laces of Alia’s tunic and found his mind beginning to wander to the sights that he would find when the tunic was removed. Images of white skin and soft curves came to mind and he closed his eyes, drawing on the Templar techniques of meditation to center himself and keep his mind on his job. The tightness in his groin became uncomfortable and demanded attention. It wasn’t working.  
Alia, in the meantime, had begun to feel warmth pooling in her lower body, spreading throughout her body, making her feel flushed. She felt the brush of Alistair’s fingers against her skin as he pulled the ties of her tunic and begin to peel the wet wool off. “Alistair…” she said, reaching up to take her shirt from his hands.  
His hands took hers in his own for a moment then released them as he dropped his hands to his sides, his eyes looking deep into hers, searching for something he didn’t know to look for before. “I…I’ll go see what else I can find to eat.” He stood up and walked back into the pantry, leaving her to watch after him. Soon she heard the sounds of his armor hitting the floor as he shed it, followed by the clang of pots and banging of lids.  
Alia pulled the wet tunic over her head, following it with her breast bindings, breeches and smallclothes then took the linen towel and vigorously rubbed herself dry. She donned the clothes that Alistair had found for her and laid her wet ones over some chairs to dry. “Finished?” Alistair called.  
“Yes,” she answered as she searched through her things for a brush for her hair.  
Alistair returned with two plates laden with dried fruit, cheese and meat, a bottle of ale and a blanket. He set the food down in front of Alia and draped the blanket around her shoulders. “Just be sure,” he said.  
“Thank you. The food looks great. And here we all thought you couldn’t cook,” she teased.  
“I can’t but I won’t admit it to anyone but you so keep mum about it, okay?”  
“Deal,” she laughed, taking a bite of apple.  
“Warm enough?”  
“I’m still a little cold,” she answered.  
Alistair moved in closer to her and pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned back against him and sighed happily. “Better?” he whispered.  
“Much.”  
They sat like that for a long while, eating and watching the fire burn down. Occasionally, Alia would shift in his arms and Alistair would let her settle only to find himself holding her tighter. It was if she belonged there and he was at a loss as to why she never had been before. “Alia?” he asked.  
“Hmmm?” she answered.  
“I was…wondering. Why we haven’t….you know?”  
“Why we haven’t what?”  
He suddenly became very nervous as he tried to find a way to broach the subject. “Well…we’ve known each other for a while now and we’ve never…well…we’ve never…”  
“Made love?”  
Alistair’s eyes popped open wide at her words. She wasn’t supposed to understand everything all at once, was she? “That and everything else.”  
“Are you asking me, Alistair? I know it’s terribly forward but things are very different in the Circle. There you grab what you can when you can get it. I just figured you were waiting for the right time or that…that perhaps you didn’t want me.” Her head hung a little at the last sentence she spoke.  
Alistair’s fingers turned her head towards him so he could look into her eyes. “I want you more than anything, Alia. Do you…want me?”  
“Oh yes.” Alia turned in his arms and faced him, letting the blanket slide to the floor.  
He smiled then and lowered his mouth to hers, allowing his lips to lightly brush hers. “I was hoping you did.” She put her hands on his face and let him deepen the kiss as his arms pulled her into his lap. “You feel so cold. Are you still cold?”  
“Yes. Warm me?” she nearly pleaded.  
Alistair laughed and lifted her up, carrying her to the bed in the bedroom, setting her down upon it. He trotted back into the front room to put some more wood on the fire and get the blanket. Alia had pulled the covers down on the bed by the time he returned. He spread the other blanket on the bed and pulled her up to him; lowering his mouth to hers in a kiss that told her everything he wanted and was prepared to give. She shivered at his touch. “Alia…you need to know something, love.”  
“What is it?” she murmured under his mouth as he kept kissing her.  
“I’ve never…done this before. With anyone,” he said, almost disappointed in his tone.  
Alia put her finger to his lips, “Neither have I.”  
“But I thought…”  
“That Cullen and I had? No. We tried so many times but could never be alone. In the Tower, that’s the way it is. Either you don’t care about who sees you doing what you’re doing or you do care and don’t do it. I cared.”  
He smiled, “I just never found the right girl. There were lots of them but I could never find the right one. The Wardens were always going to the houses and once they even got me one, but I couldn’t do it. She was really nice when I explained it all to her. Instead she spent the whole evening telling me what to do and not to do when the time did come. At the end of the evening she…well she used her mouth and…Wow! I paid her double for that.”  
Alia laughed, “I used to keep watch for my friend Lizzie and her boyfriend. I usually did more than just watch for the Templars though. Sometimes I watched them.”  
“You bad girl,” he said, laughing as his hands began to roam over her back. “And did you enjoy what you saw?”  
She turned red as she moved in closer, rubbing herself along his chest. “Sometimes. Once or twice they invited me join them. I…well I thought I’d pass on that for the time being.”  
“Naughty as well, I see. My, my, what will we do with you naughty girl?”  
“I need to be taught a lesson, ser.”  
“Indeed you do. What shall I teach you then?”  
“I’ll start by learning how to get warm. I’m still cold, Alistair!”  
Alistair laughed and sat down on the bed and began pulling off his boots. When she didn’t move, he looked up at her. “You were going to wear your clothes to bed?’  
“Oh! Of course not,” she replied, sitting down next to him to remove her slippers and stockings. Alistair sneaked a peek at her legs as she pulled up the dress. “You like that?” she asked.  
“Um hum…” he answered as she pulled the dress up higher for him to see as she untied the garters of the stockings. “Oh Maker…”  
“I thought you’d like that.”  
Alistair stood up and pulled his shirt out of his breeches, “So tell me what you think of this, ma’am.” He pulled the ties on the neck of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it behind him.  
“Oooo…I like! My turn.” Alia got up and unlaced the bodice of her dress, watching him as he wet his lips, his eyes never leaving her. When she had unlaced it all the way, she reached down and pulled it slowly up her body, revealing long slim legs, and the gauzy cotton shift she had donned earlier. She pulled the dress over her head and tossed it to the floor with his shirt. “You’re next.”  
“Maker’s breath!” he exclaimed as he saw her in the shift. The cotton was translucent and with the dim light of the bedroom he could see the silhouette of her body. Her slender waist, rounded hips and her breasts with nipples pebbled from excitement. His hands came down to his laces as he pulled them loose, sliding them off his hips and letting them fall to the floor where he stepped out of them and kicked them aside, wearing nothing but his smallclothes.  
Alia caught her breath at him. He was hard and ready for her. She wanted to touch and kiss every inch of him then start all over and do it again. “Mercy…” she said, just as a violent shiver hit her, whether from desire or cold, she didn’t know.  
Alistair reached out and pulled her closer, stroking her arms with his hands. “You are so beautiful, Alia,” he whispered. “And so cold,” he added, concern deep in his voice, as he picked her up and set her down in the bed, climbing in with her and pulling up the covers around them. “I want you so much, love, but I have to get you warm first, okay?”  
Her teeth were chattering as she scooted nearer to him, “O…k…k…kay.”  
He put his arms around her and ran his hands over her body, touching her and feeling everything he can. “You feel so wonderful.”  
Alia put her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. “You are s…s…so warm.” She buried her head in his neck, kissing him as he caressed her arms and back with his hands. She relaxed against him as he continued to stroke her and was soon still, her breathing slow and steady in sleep.  
Alistair smiled and settled down in the bed with her, pulling the covers up around them and tucking them in. “Sleep well, love,” he whispered as he kissed her softly just before drifting off himself.

@@@@@

Alistair woke in the predawn hours, feeling the cold as it had penetrated the room around him. Alia was still snuggled up next to him, sound asleep, her arm draped over his chest and her head on his shoulder. He turned and kissed the top of her head and shifted slowly, extricating himself out from under her while tucking the covers around her. He slipped on his breeches and shirt and with a last look at his sleeping love; softly padded to the outer room and the chamber pot, then stoked the fire to a blaze. He stopped at the window and looked out at the storm, watching the swirls of white circling the house.  
Alia awoke to find herself alone in the bed, the covers tucked up around her. She sat up and swung her feet out of the bed, and then stood up, throwing the shawl over her shoulders. She softly tiptoed out to the outside room and found Alistair standing in front of the window, looking out at the storm. Alia came up and put her arms around him, resting her head on his back. Alistair reached around and pulled her in front of him, putting his arms around her and hugging her tight.  
He sighed deeply and bent down, his lips meeting hers in a soft kiss that turned deeper and more passionate until they were both panting. “Alia,” he said, his lips still touching hers as he spoke. “I love you. I didn’t know before and I’m sorry.”  
“I didn’t know either, Alistair,” she replied. “I love you too.”  
Alistair looked at her intently, “Please tell me we didn’t wait too long.”  
Alia shook her head, “No. We have the rest of our lives to make up that time.”  
He bent down and kissed her again, his passion rising. He picked her up and carried her back to the bed, never breaking the kiss as he did. As he set her down, she dropped the shawl to the floor and pulled off her shift, dropping it to the floor. Alistair pulled the laces of his breeches and slid them over his hips with his smallclothes, letting them pool to the floor.  
Alia put her arms around him and drew him down with her to the bed. His hands roamed over his body as he rolled to his side and he moaned softly when he felt her tongue taste his skin. “Do that again…please,” he begged and she repeated the lick, followed by a gentle nip with her teeth. “Maker…” he pleaded, “Alia, please…”  
She turned to her side and he rose above her, her mouth coming down on hers hard and demanding. Alia wrapped her legs around him as he slowly entered her, stopping as he reached the inevitable barrier, “Love…I’m sorry…it will hurt,” he told her.  
“Please,” she begged.  
Alistair pulled back and then pushed forward, breaking through and seating himself completely. Alia cried out, tears forming in her eyes as he moaned. He gathered himself and looked down at her, “Are you all right?” he panted. Suddenly he felt himself bathed in a comforting warmth that caused him to sigh with pleasure, “Andraste’s mercy…” he exclaimed.  
“Like that?” she asked, smiling.  
“What was that?” he asked, still breathless.  
“Healing spell,” she replied, wriggling closer to him and kissing his face, “I’m just find now.”  
Alistair smiled and began to move inside her as Alia moaned against him. “Oh Maker! You feel so good, love. I never want to stop!”  
“Then don’t!” she gasped as she began to climb towards her release. “Please don’t stop!”  
“Alia, I…can’t…” he trailed off as the sensations became too much for him to speak. His hand came down between them and he began to rub her as he stroked in and out, causing her to bear down and bury her face in his shoulder as she began to keen with an intensity so strong that he followed her, spilling into her with all he had to give.  
Alistair lowered himself down to her side just as his arms gave out, his breath coming fast and hard as was Alia’s. Turning to her, he found her eyes closed in pure pleasure so he pulled her into his arms whispering, “Maker, I love you.”  
“I love you,” she said sleepily, drifting off in his arms.  


@@@@@

When Alistair woke, Alia was gone but he smelled the most heavenly scents he had ever smelled coming from the outer room. Sitting up, he swung his legs out of the bed and reached for his breeches, pulling them on and tying them. A quick search for his shirt found nothing so he walked out of the room to find a sight he would never forget.  
Alia sat on a small stool in front of the fire, her hair mussed from sleeping, wearing nothing but his shirt, cooking ham, potatoes and biscuits on the fire. A pot of water for tea was boiling on the stones and the table had been set for two. It was the most beautiful site he had ever seen. He crossed the floor so fast she had no time to react, pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. “You look so beautiful this morning, love,” he exclaimed as he continued to kiss her.  
“Alistair! You have to let me go or we’ll have burnt breakfast. You wouldn’t like that, would you?” she asked playfully. “I promise you can have me afterwards.” He laughed and released her, sitting down at the table as she served him his breakfast. He had never eaten so fast in all his life.  
Later in bed, he asked, “Where did you learn to cook like that?”  
“The Tower. You have to learn to cook to brew potions. All the apprentices take turns in the kitchens. It’s the best way to learn preparation techniques and how to preserve, store and prepare. I never get a chance to use the talent much anymore though. I’ll cook for you any time you want,” she answered as she lazily ran her fingers through the hair on his chest.  
“That tickles, you know.” When she moved her fingers away, he pulled them back. “In a good way, love.” She laughed and resumed her motion as he sighed. They stayed that way for a while, listening to the storm outside and each other’s hearts when he broke the silence, “Alia, tell me you’ll never leave me.”  
Alia turned towards him, nestling into his embrace. “I never want to, Alistair, but I’m not sure I can promise I won’t.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“We don’t know what the future holds, love. There’s a long way to go yet.”  
He turned towards her, “Tell me you’ll try at least….please.”  
“I’ll never leave you,” she whispered, taking his mouth in hers to seal the promise.  
“I’ll never leave you either,” he promised, taking her mouth again and again.

@@@@@

“Papa! Papa!”  
The blond haired girl of about five ran to the tall man as he spoke to an older man in the hallway of the palace. “Alia! What are you doing here? Your mother and Auntie Wynne must be frantic out looking for you.” He bent over and scooped up his daughter as she hugged him tight.  
“I wanted to see you, Papa,” she said as she hugged him tightly.  
“And so you are. Say hello to your Uncle Eamon, sweetie.”  
“Hello, Uncle!”  
“And hello to you, your highness. How are you today?” Eamon bowed low, making the girl giggle at him.  
“I came to see Papa.” She looked up at her father, “Would you tell me the story of the Hero of Ferelden, Papa? Mother says you knew her.”  
A slight pang hit his heart at the mention of her but he didn’t miss a beat, she wouldn’t have liked that. “Yes, lovie, I did know her. She was a great friend and very special.”  
“Indeed she was special, little one,” added Eamon.  
“You knew her too, Uncle Eamon?” asked the girl with wonder.  
“I did. She was very brave and very kind,” the Arl answered.  
“Alia!” The voice of her mother made the girl cringe just a bit, burying her head in her father’s neck. “There you are!” Anora came down the hall, Wynne in tow, carrying a blond haired boy of about three years on her hip. “I told you to stay with Mistress Wynne today, didn’t I? What are you doing here bothering your father when he has work to do?”  
“She’s not disturbing me, love. Eamon and I were enjoying the distraction,” he told his wife.  
“Alistair! Honestly, you spoil these children so. How are they supposed to learn anything about duty if you let them run all over the place and keep telling them those outrageous stories you always tell them?”  
Alistair set his daughter down on the floor in front of him and took his son from his wife. “Oh, I don’t think stories about heroes and heroines will hurt anything, do you? Besides, they love them.” He looked over at his wife with fondness, “You do too.”  
Anora blushed and slowly let a smile spread across her face. “I really hate it when you disarm me like that, you know.”  
“Hello Duncan,” Alistair said as he kissed his son then leaned over to hand him back to his wife, kissing her on the cheek and whispering in her ear, “No, you don’t.” She blushed even more, rolled her eyes and nodded. “I’ll find out just how much later,” he whispered.  
Bending down, he picked up his daughter and kissed her cheek, “Go with Auntie Wynne and I’ll tell you all you want to know, lovie, but you have to behave the rest of the day, all right?”  
“Yes, Papa,” Alia replied. He set her down and she ran to Wynne. Anora handed little Duncan to Wynne, who took the children down the hallway to their nursery to play.  
“Eamon, would you excuse us?” Alistair asked. The Arl nodded, bowing before his king and queen before excusing himself. Alistair turned to his wife, “She asked about her again.”  
“I know. She asked me too,” she said. “I know it hurts, love, but she won’t stop asking.”  
“I’ll tell her then…and you,” he said. “It’s time.”  
Anora nodded and kissed her husband on the cheek. “I thought she was special too.”  
Alistair looked down at his wife, smiled a sad smile and nodded, then took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. When she pulled away, she said, “I’ll tell the ambassador you are detained, take a little time, love.” She kissed him once more and left him alone with his memories.  
He walked down the hallway to his study, locking the door behind him. On the wall was his father’s and Duncan’s swords, his and Duncan’s shields, and in the corner was his Warden armor, beat up and dented, just as it was all those years ago. The fire in the fireplace was down and he stoked it up, putting a log on and then watching it blaze up. Looking up at the mantle, he saw the staff, her staff, sitting in its place of honor where he had put it himself. His hand came out and touched the smooth oak wood and he closed his eyes, remembering the beautiful girl with golden hair and honey brown eyes who had carried it so well.  
Alistair turned to look out the window of his study. He watched the swirls of snow as they circled the buildings in the bailey below and the city outside the walls. She was much on his mind that day and he knew why; it was the snow. The whirling, swirling clouds of white that floated from the sky and engulfed all that he knew in a haze of white so pure and clean, just as she had been. If he listened, he could hear her voice on the wind, speaking to him sometimes like she had back then, “I’ll never leave you.”  
Alia had taught him so much about life and love in their short time together; lessons she had taught others besides himself. She had made him king, stayed with him as lover even though he had married another, and then had left him; left him alone to watch as she died before his eyes, sacrificing herself to save them all.  
The Wardens believed that the soul of the killer of an Archdemon was destroyed forever, but he knew differently. She was there now, keeping her promise to never leave him, her voice on the wind and in his heart, forever. “I remember, love,” he whispered softly to the wind, “I always remember.”  
The wind answered, “I’ll never leave you.”

@@@@@

Anora was tucking Alia in bed as he entered the darkened room. He bent down and placed a kiss on his sleeping son’s forehead, whispering, “Sleep well, little Duncan.” Walking over to Alia’s bed, he sat down on the opposite side from Anora, reaching over to take his wife’s hand. His other hand came up and smoothed his daughter’s curls away from her face as he started, “Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl named Alia who lived in a tower in the middle of a large lake…..”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a few people ask if there was any magic shenanigans going on here in regards to the characters of Alia and young Alia. Nope. Alistair just named his daughter after his love and it's just as it reads, a sweet love story about a beautiful girl who changes the lives of everyone she meets and dies too young. I hope you enjoyed it!  
> ahlewis32


End file.
